


La petite mort

by severinne



Category: Star Trek AOS
Genre: Breathplay, Casual Sex, M/M, Power Play, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:43:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severinne/pseuds/severinne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another fill for Porn Battle XV wherein Pike continues to indulge more than is good for him and I continue to fall back on French titles like a good little Canadian. Prompt words: bargaining, selfishness, wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La petite mort

Chris stirred in the nest of sofa cushions and blankets on his living room floor, his eyelids flinching at a whisper of familiar blue light. Squinting into reluctant wakefulness, he frowned across his apartment at the lean, pale figure hunched over his desk. The glowing console flooded his ghostly blue eyes, hollowed out his downward stare into unreadable opacity.

An instinctive flutter of indignation, of anger slipped down Chris’ throat – a paranoid jolt that faded as he recalled all the security measures he had in place to allow that console to be installed in his personal apartment in the first place. Only the most exceptionally uncanny mind could hope to reach any of Starfleet’s secrets through there. Still, it was a liberty.

‘Trouble sleeping?’ he asked flatly. Chris propped himself up on an elbow, frowning as the younger man snapped to attention: eyes cerulean-bright in the console’s light, full lips parted in surprise. As with his first sight of the man, Chris was startled by the uncommon attractiveness of Jim… _no._ Not Jim, that was all wrong.

‘John.’ Yes, that was the name he had moaned earlier when he had taken him over the coffee table. He must have gotten it right; John smiled wistfully, his features relaxing into smooth quiet.

‘I didn’t want to disturb you,’ he murmured in that low, rich tone that had caught Chris’ ear before his eye had turned that afternoon in the munitions yard. The sound of it vibrated his blood, stirred thick between his legs.

‘Too late.’ Chris gestured impatiently with two fingers. ‘Get back here.’

John crossed the wide apartment in long, loping strides – naked, proud despite the bruises and bites Chris could read on his pale skin. He dropped to his knees with the same grace as earlier, bowed obediently forward as Chris fingered the slight curl of his black hair.

‘I can think of better things than work to keep you occupied if you won’t sleep.’

A faint smirk pulled at those expressive lips. ‘Your floor isn’t very comfortable for sleep, Admiral.’

Chris stifled a groan. ‘Are you asking to go to my bed?’

‘Are you inviting me?’

‘Not yet.’ He would never admit it out loud, but his legs ached horribly from their earlier games and he was in no rush to stand up. ‘You’ll have to earn it first,’ he warned, eyes narrowing as he allowed a whisper of authority to suffuse his body, his voice. His cock, still sore from hard use, twitched beneath the blanket slung carelessly over his hips as his fingers trailed over a razor-sharp cheekbone, smooth throat and collarbones like blades threatening to pierce through taut flesh. John was nearly alien to his usual desires but he had the raw strength that tended to draw his eye, compact as a diamond within that lean frame.

‘And how should I do that?’ John planted his hands on the floor to either side of Chris’ prone body, leaned down to press his mouth to the drum of his heart with a feline arch of his back that left his taut ass tilted upward like an offering. ‘Like this?’ he asked softly, lips quirking against his skin as Chris moaned softly at the sight of him.

‘Slut,’ he murmured fondly. He stretched out a hand, groped John’s ass as he considered. The bruises of his fingertips were already fading from that smooth skin. ‘No,’ he decided, pinching the flesh sharply before letting his hand fall away. ‘No, I want to see you work for it.’

For a swift, searing moment, John’s stare narrowed to something startling, almost dangerous. Chris sucked in a sharp breath, and exhaled an illicit rush of anticipation as John snatched the blanket away from his lower body, leaving him fully exposed. Those parted lips, hot against his skin, dragged down his tensed belly and mouthed wetly at his cock – licking and nuzzling at the infuriating precipice of a proper blowjob. Chris flexed his hips desperately with a rumbling hum, captured John’s hair in his fingers and tried to force his mouth to better advantage but the sinful creature was remarkably stubborn, resisting even the cruelest shove of Chris’ hand.

‘Damned cocktease.’

‘You love it.’ John’s baritone was thick, sickly sweet with barely cloaked amusement. It wasn’t a lie, but the arrogance of it prickled through Chris’ hand, made his slap across John’s cheek something more than playful.

‘Shut up and ride me already, you mouthy thing.’ He shoved himself up on one braced arm, the better to watch and touch as John straddled his hips, upright and proud as he reached behind to take Chris’ waiting cock in hand.

‘Am I really doing all the work?’ John drawled as his fingers tested the scant spit and precome slicking his shaft. Indulgently, Chris shoved a hand between his spread thighs, found his opening still loose and wet enough to take two fingers with little resistance. He played inside John’s tight heat, nudging at his prostate and smirking as those feline eyes shivered closed.

‘You’re already dripping wet,’ Chris said, leaning in to lick roughly at a peaked nipple. ‘So stop complaining,’ he chided, pausing to bite at the sensitive flesh, ‘and get going already.’

‘If you like, sir.’ A hard shove threw Chris flat to the floor, breathless as John swiftly impaled himself on his cock. He groaned loudly at the sudden tightness surrounding him, riding him with a ferocity that threatened to break him; he reached for those ruthless hips, gasped as John beat his hands aside and lunged for his throat.

‘Is this how you want it, Admiral?’ Long fingers clasped his neck, held him down as John fucked himself in slower, longer undulations of his body. ‘Am I working hard enough for you?’

Chris struggled for breath past John’s chokehold and the raw, blinding lust flooding every nerve ending he had long thought dead. ‘Yes…’ he decided, a rough whisper deep in his throat. ‘Yes, just like that, you dirty slut…’

‘You still think you’re in control, don’t you?’ John squinted sharply down at him, studying him with a cold stare that only heightened Chris’ arousal. ‘Maybe I’m the one using you,’ he snarled. ‘Maybe I’ll snap your neck the very second I’m done with you…’

 _Fuck_ … If that made his cock twitch harder within the confines of John’s body, he was blaming it on too many monotonous months spent dirt-side and nothing more. ‘Do it,’ he dared, meeting John’s stare and snapping his hips upward as he rushed nearer to the edge. ‘Go on… you won’t be the first to try it…’

‘They weren’t me.’ John dropped forward, his breath gusting hot against Chris’ jaw. ‘I’ll break you,’ he rasped, tongue dragging a bestial stripe over his skin. ‘I’ll shred the very life out of you…’

Chris cried out, raked blunt fingernails down John’s arching back as his orgasm was torn out of him, one wrenching pulse at a time. It was almost like death, like being scattered into nothingness, if not for the hot spatter of John’s release on his skin keeping him anchored to the low filth of their sex, his too-hard floor, the too-slow Earth beneath it all.

He slumped into the frustrating reality of all those things with a low groan, every tensed muscle snapped loose to bleed across the floor as John shifted away from him, wiped his fingers against Chris’ trembling thigh.

‘Bed…?’ The offer dropped lazily from his lips, motivated more by exhaustion than any will to move.

‘It’s fine.’ After the harsh threats of their climax, John was a dull, soothing monotone at his ear, gentle fingers upon his shuttering eyelids. ‘Just… stay, right here…’

Chris surrendered with an exhausted murmur, uncaring of the throb of retreating footsteps. Even the hum of blue light whispering at his dying consciousness couldn’t keep him from slipping into sleep.


End file.
